To Dwell on Dreams
by stella8h8chang
Summary: In dreams, we enter a world that's entirely our own...Or do we? Five songficlets about the times Dumbledore and Grindelwald encountered each other in dreams. Warning: Slash. PART FIVE now up: where an ageing Gellert refuses to dream that it's all over.
1. The Impossible Dream

_**A/N: I wanted something to commemorate the anniversary of my OTP becoming canon, but Tempus is proving much more work than I anticipated (read: next chapter is 4500 words and still growing). Since reviving the "Friday Fives" on "grindeldore" on LiveJournal (come check us out!) I decided to write a collection of song-based ficlets on the topic of "empty dreams", or as Virgil put it more elegantly, "somnia vana". **__**Now,**__** let's be clear: **__**I'm not attempting to make money out of this and I'm not claiming ownership of **__**Harry Potter**__**, or, in this case, **__**The Man of La Mancha**__** (not going to be copy/pasting any lyrics here). Also, I gave Gellert my friend's birthday, so he turns 17 in Godric's Hollow. AND OH - HERE BE SLASH.  
**_

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**1**

_**GELLERT**_

**"The Impossible Dream"**

Gellert dreams of being at the centre of epic journeys, battles, empires and more. It's been this way ever since he was old enough to dream. For the first ten years, people around him laugh, either in amusement or ridicule, at what they deem "impossible". Then, at school, he is scorned and scarred by those who deem him mad. He has decided that by his third decade, _he_ will be _revered_ for his _reveries _which will have become _reality_.

According to the myths he falls in love with as a child, Chaos - emptiness and disorientation - has given birth to the universe - to Cosmos, to order and harmony. But his first-hand experiences with the universe show him that Chaos is still everywhere. When his grandparents violently voice their disapproval of their son's marriage to a muggle – a matter surely of no importance to them. When his mother is swallowed in the sea for reasons he will never understand. When his father cannot bear to hear the sweetest sound in the world, that of a violin. When he is scolded for showing off his magic to the muggle children he meets at the seaside and told he must conceal his greatest talent.

The universe simply fails to make any sense; it's a Pandora's Box of Paradoxes.

Gellert learns that you can be full of emptiness, that anger is a part of grief, that Heaven and Hell can be married, that to be great is to be misunderstood, and most of all, that the only absolute certainty is that there are no absolute certainties. Nothing is permanent and no one, not even your own parent, is infallible. All you have to cling to in the sea of Chaos is yourself.

On the other hand, it means that no foe is unbeatable, no sorrow is unbearable, no weariness will not eventually pass and no wrong cannot be righted. It gives him the hope that he can overturn the chaotic, stuck-in-stalemate chessboard that is the world at the present, and start a revolution that will restore reason and order. This is the quest that, prophecy in hand and heart, he devises when he escapes from Durmstrang, and he begins with a journey to Godric's Hollow.

But in that sleepy Wizarding village he finds far more than he bargained for.

Albus teaches Gellert that there is far more logic and elegance in playing a game through to the end, step-by-step, battle by battle, finishing off your opponent completely, and that it is a "mistake" to rush in, tearing up the authority and foundations of your ancestors. Albus, completely unlike Kit, questions him, makes him pause, gives a second opinion without being asked for it, and forces him to polish his plans. 

_"Is that really necessary? Or is it more than we need..." _says the auburn-haired boy.

Albus Dumbledore is a fiery soul too, with a lust for fame and glory, but it only shows in his eyes, set in a face so calm that if it were a pond, it would act like a mirror. Contained within Albus is a different kind of passion – and it evokes a kind of passion in Gellert that he has never experienced before.

The critical difference between Gellert at seven and Gellert at seventeen is that now he knows he's not the only man courageous and worthy enough to reach the unreachable. Perhaps some dreams are meant to be shared after all.


	2. I Dreamed a Dream

_**A/N: Just like I don't own Harry Potter I don't own Les Miserables either. Kudos to you if you are picking up the references within each chapter! An uncensored, full-length version of this may or may not appear soon on my LiveJournal (Since I started a T-rated story here, I thought I'd keep it T-rated for consistency...)**__** Thank you to nighteyes00, RainbowRainbird, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot and SaintRidley for their reviews on chapter one! **_

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**2**

_**ALBUS**_

**"I Dreamed a Dream"**

Albus awakens under a tree in a meadow. He immediately notices that his head is in someone's lap, and that that someone is a _someone _he has not seen in _years_.

Apparently, Albus has travelled back in time several decades, for the Gellert Grindelwald sitting up against the tree-trunk, sleeping peacefully, in contrast to his latest pastimes, is teetering on the ridge between boyhood and manhood. Seventeen, one of the most magical ages. He is full of other contradictions too, like his mismatched eyes. Or the clash between his carelessly beautiful exterior and his wondrous mind that never slows down – the slightest shift on Albus' part is enough to rouse him. And he doesn't even need to vocalise his thoughts for Albus to understand him, as there is hardly any hesitation when the two lean towards each other.

Gellert is wondrous – exciting – captivating – mesmerising – bewitching – there is no word that can do justice to the feelings flooding through Albus.

Night comes abruptly, and he mutters to Gellert that he must be off.

"No," says Gellert softly, in that musical voice of his. "My house – tonight."

"Forgive me," replies Albus, knowing that there will always be tomorrow. He turns his back and begins to run – he has some idea that he must return to his house in Godric's Hollow – even though reason tells him that he, Aberforth and Ariana no longer live there – but he cannot stop. Perhaps he is fleeing from the flashes of lightning or the roaring thunder over his head. He is even more perplexed when he finds himself indoors – in Gellert's bedroom.

He tries to orientate himself. Confusion turns to shame - his clothes have vanished, and even worse, he is not alone in the room. And it is not even just Gellert and himself. There is someone whom Gellert, poised on the edge of his bed like a big cat, is beckoning to.

Another handsome young man, whose hair is as black as Gellert's is blonde, settles down by Gellert's side. "Tom, I cannot wait to see what you have become," Gellert says, slipping an arm around him. "My, how you've grown..."

_Tom...Tom...is that Tom _Riddle_?_ Albus is horrified. But Tom is still a schoolboy – and this dark creature looks several years older than Gellert – although Gellert always looked so much younger, so much more innocent than he actually was.

The pair nestle closer – a tangle of wandering legs and arms – and a smirk now spreads across Gellert's once-beautiful face, as if he knows Albus has just realised that _this is what Tom Riddle has grown up to be – Grindelwald's right-hand man – the other Dark Lord – the other child of the Prophecy – what Albus _could_ have become, had he not stayed behind. _

Gellert pulls Tom towards him as they stand up. They give each other meaningful looks. Albus can only wish that the earth would crack open and swallow him up – surely Hell could be no worse than this. But he cannot tear his eyes away from them, as they start unbuttoning their shirts. He can barely even bring himself to blink...

...and then he wakes up again.

_Now_ he's middle-aged. _Now_ he's in a large and comfortable, if cold and empty, bed of his own. _Now_ the morning is coming to banish these dreams. For _now_.


	3. Dream a Little Dream of Me

_**A/N: **__**Happy Halloween, everyone! Here you go - have a treat that's short and sweet! And just a reminder - you have only a few moments more to vote for my story, "Danse Macabre", in the Reviews Lounge Reviewers' Choice Awards!  
**_

_**::yawn:: are you tired yet of my disclaimers? I don't own Harry Potter, or the timeless jazz song, "Dream A Little Dream of Me". Thank you very much to WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, SaintRidley and NezalXuchitl for their reviews on the last chapter!  
**_

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**3**

_**Gellert**_

**"Dream a Little Dream of Me"**

In spite of all that he has achieved, there are days when Gellert Grindelwald is quite unsatisfied with his life. Just as, in spite of the ample four-poster bed with its silken sheets, there are nights when he is utterly unable to sleep. He looks up at the canopy above him, dotted with gems to resemble the night sky, and numbers them his head. The only twinkling objects he can envision when he shuts his eyes are blue and almond-shaped.

"_We count sheep – but in Asia they count stars," _he remembers Albus saying, when he was trying to explain a particular Indian text, the title of which evades Gellert the same way sleep continues to.

He opens the bed-curtains to get some air. He tosses about. He sings Brahms' _Lullaby _in his head. He burrows under the covers. He closes the curtains to keep the warmth in. He puts a pillow over his face. He sees how much of Eliot's "Love Song" he can recite off by heart. He gets to "_Till human voices wake us, and we drown._" He tries Shakespeare. "_To be or not to be... To sleep, perchance to dream..._" and then he remembers telling Albus about Shakes of Grey and the Myth of Dichotomy and Blake's Binaries and how "_there is nothing good or bad, thinking makes it so_".

Gellert wonders if stirring up the memories of Albus – even if the last time they were intimate was decades years ago – will do him any good. He screws up his eyes and imagines the delicate ankles, the long, lean, milk-white calves, the bony knees, the parchment-thin skin of the inner thighs...

"_Oh Albus, ja, ja, jaaaa!_"

...and after about five minutes, moaning into the imaginary mouth of the man on top of him, he's spent but not somnolent. As he gropes for his other wand to perform a quick, nonverbal _Tergeo, _he's been left wondering if the object of his imagination has ever lain in bed at night and conjured up images of a similar kind. Good-night kisses, rib-crushing embraces, whispers of, "I miss you..."

He thinks he must be dreaming when he hears birds chirping outside, but when he gets up to check, he finds the stars fading outside the window. If only memories could wax and wane like the moon, or lighten and darken like the sky, or come and go like the stars.

"_But then they wouldn't be memories; they would merely be sentiments," says a sneaky voice in his ear, "For the nature of a memory is to linger forever, is it not?"_

All his worries about facing business tomorrow without any sleep are dissolved by the many splendours of the dawn. When he sees the sunbeams of red and gold kissing the mountains in the distance, he sees in his mind's eye the strands of auburn hair that he used to kiss. When he realises, though, that time has put one more day between them, the sweetness turns to gall,the bitter taste a reminder of everything he left behind.

No, _everything _he _threw away._


	4. I Have a Dream

_**A/N: Thanks to WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, who beta-ed this, to SaintRidley and NezalXuchitl for their reviews, and to ABBA for coming up with the cheesiest musical goodness ever in "I Have a Dream".**_

_**And...a very merry Christmas to you all!  
**_

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**4**

_**Albus**_

**"I Have a Dream"**

Every day the Order of the Phoenix perseveres is another time they put their lives on the line. Even Albus – whom people have come to assume is invulnerable, perhaps even invincible – has had to come to terms with the fact that if fate decides his time is up, he will have to leave this world. As mighty as the Elder Wand is, the only guarantee in this magical world is that there are no guarantees. One must somehow simultaneously hope for the best but be prepared for the worst.

Turning the wand over in his fingers, he thinks of the other mighty, but flawed Hallows – a stone that calls back shadows, not souls, and a cloak which can be permeated by a variety of spells, including _Homenum Revelio_. What is the wand's weakness? The Beedle legend implies that it is the weakness of the bearer more than anything else – the lust for power that will inevitably lead to defeat. If this is true, then he, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin First Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Grand Sorcerer, is actually one of the weakest wizards alive.

On particularly low days, he sees not only the lust for power in himself, but a thousand other ones. In fact, if the Seven Deadly Sins were true to their name, he would be dead by now. Indeed, he'd never have lived past his teens, given that he committed all seven of them one stupid, shallow summer, in the name of _Love_.

_Pride_ – thinking himself to be morally infallible. _Envy_ – for Elphias' life, free from family or adult responsibilities. _Wrath_ – the countless times he lost patience with Aberforth. _Sloth_ – his shameless neglect of Ariana. _Greed_ – for the three Hallows, and everything that he thought they would lead to. _Gluttony_ – that one night when he had consented to "French Lessons" under the influence of Firewhiskey. And _Lust_ – as he'd never known it before – not just the racing heart and sweaty palms that made concentration difficult – but every inch of his body crying out for another.

It's enough to make him think Tom Riddle has one thing right – that "Love's" purpose is to make fools of us all.

From time to time, Albus allows himself a glance in the Mirror of Erised, because it helps to convince him that he has been successful in shutting Grindelwald inside Nurmengard and out of his life. What he sees in the Mirror is Ariana, surrounded by the rest of her family, since at the end of the day, blood is thicker than water, and Dutiful Love for one's family is the deepest, purest love – the only type that does not corrupt.

And yet, that _other_ kind of love, the silly, superficial kind that epitomises human folly, it still taunts him when he lies asleep in his tower, without consciousness to act as a sentry.

_He's in Godric's Hollow – by the stream at the bottom of Bathilda's garden – shallow enough for him to wade across – only it swells and starts to swallow him up – wandless and defenceless here – before a winged creature known to muggles as an angel rescues him – white-winged and yellow-haired – and then he looks more closely at the face –_

Another of Albus' guilty pleasures is children's books. Dr Seuss' tales, for a muggle example. Or _Beedle's_, for a more well-known one. Mostly as a result of the copy he procured while still at Hogwarts, with its childish annotations on the aged pages – a reminder of the time when they all believed in fairy-tales and happy endings – which make him smile (in superiority, in wistfulness, who knows?). All he knows is that Riddle and his followers will have nothing to do with such simple things, and so it helps him define himself against them.

"_Why should it have to be deep and meaningful for it to matter?" ask the demons in his dreams. "Just because it's not the deepest, most desperate desire of your heart doesn't make it insignificant! Isn't it the little things we fight for in war? Like our children being allowed to sleep safe and sound in our beds at night? Things like the right for a witch or wizard to marry whomever they choose – muggle or magical? Isn't the side you fight against the side with all the empires and absolute power? What have you got? You're supposed to work on things like Courage, Justice, Prudence, Temperance, Faith, Hope...and you have Love if you want it...for better or for worse..."_

It takes Albus a long time to realise that if his own side shuns love, then evil will surely find a way to use it for its own purposes – much like it has the Dementors and the Giants. Better to provide sanctuary to lovers before the torment turns them into monsters.

It takes him even longer to accept the simple truth that _love is not simple_. It is impossible to categorise it or to make statements like "platonic love is superior to non-platonic love". Love makes people do the most unspeakable things, and it makes people do the most wonderful things. At the end of the day, all one can do is _believe_ that the better kinds of love will win out in the end. Prepare for the worst, but believe in the best. That is part of its magic.


	5. Don't Dream It's Over

**_A/N: In true JKR tradition, since this is the grand finale, I'm going to include some quotes from writers far greater than myself. Thanks to WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, as always, for being a fantastic beta, and thanks to Alex, who won't be reading this here, but reviewed it on LJ. A huge "sorry" to my readers here, whom I neglected. After reading this, I highly recommend you listen to Crowded House's "Don't Dream it's Over"._**

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**5**

_**Gellert**_

"**Don't Dream it's Over"**

**-  
**

_**You know you're in love when you don't want to fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams."  
(Dr Seuss)**_

"_**I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each other's dreams, we can play together all night."  
(Bill Watterson, Calvin & Hobbes)**_

_**-  
**_

_Dear Albus,_  
_Good to hear that my cheap imitation is gone. Now that you are no longer wasting your time with war, we can turn over a new leaf and return to more important things - KINDLY DISPENSE WITH THE VIOLIN SHEET MUSIC. My eyesight is going, and as it is, you know I had a gift for playing by ear. Both in the musical and the metaphorical sense. This Christmas I would like a guitar..._

Gellert isn't sure if Albus will take him seriously, but he continues, as music is one of the few ways he can unlock some kind of freedom within Nurmengard.

_...You see, the new guards – charming young boys – you didn't perchance employ them to tempt me, did you? I have a suspicion...well, never mind. They took it upon themselves to update my repertoire by threatening that if they heard any more of that "classical junk" they would ensure that my coffee was always burnt beyond consumption. I tried explaining that the piece is actually called "Classical Gas" and recommending they ask their parents for proof that it is indeed a piece of popular, modern music, but, oh Albus, you know what I'm like without my daily dose of caffeine. So I let them bring me...cassettes, I think they call them. And I've become addicted to REM, U2, The Police, Bon Jovi and Duran Duran among others – but you try arranging their music for classical violin and I'll be all yours..._

Gellert has lost so many battles, but he is determined not to lose the last one. He will not surrender to death, he will salute it to its face. Just as, he feels, he will gain a sort of bittersweet victory over Albus by openly declaring his feelings for the man. It gives him some kind of liberation and relief.  
_  
...although...well, as if I wasn't to start with._

_Counting down the days until Christmas,_

_Yours sincerely, truly, faithfully, &c_  
_Gellert._

Gellert puts down his quill – but only for now, as he sees no reason why his epistolary exchange should end here. He rolls up the parchment and places it in his empty coffee mug under the flap in the front door. He lies down in front of the slitlike excuse for a window, well aware that with his feet pointing in the direction of the door, the Chinese would call it the "coffin position".

He rests peacefully. He easily reaches the final stage of sleep, where we dream.

Roused by raindrops on his face, he looks up and notices the hole in the roof. Licking his lips, he realises that they taste suspiciously like tears. He walks over to the wall, climbs up it like a fly would, crawls across the ceiling and towards liberty at last. He is invigorated by the blood rushing through his veins, and his heart beating away like a drum.

"_I'm coming, Albus! I'm coming! Next time you hear a knock, it'll be me at your door! Just you wait! They thought these walls would keep me from you – but they were wrong!" he yells to the shadowy sky. "The WHOLE BLOODY DAMNED WORLD was wrong! It's not over, Albus! It's not over between us! IT'S NOT OVER, DO YOU HEAR? It's NEVER over between me and you!"_

_Fin._


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